


This time (we’ll find love for sure)

by Keiyuu



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bartenders, F/F, High School, Police, Reincarnation, Spies & Secret Agents, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Waiters & Waitresses, Yankee, also effectively that seven times they didn't and the one time they did trope, rated m for that one smut section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keiyuu/pseuds/Keiyuu
Summary: Where Sana’s oblivious and Mina’s playing a game she just can’t seem to win.
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Myoui Mina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	This time (we’ll find love for sure)

**Author's Note:**

> Not a genderbender don’t be fooled by the first scene.

_It’s time to begin, isn’t it_

_I get a little bit bigger but then I’ll admit_

_I’m just the same as I was_

_Now don’t you understand_

_I’m never changing who I am_

_It’s Time_ — Imagine Dragons

**Pragma**

The man sitting seiza at the low table fits so perfectly against the backdrop of shoji screens, legs tucked neatly under him on the tatami, back stick straight, all he’s missing is a haori. He turns to face her, a bit delayed from her earlier knock. Sana pauses in the doorway. Short locks tucked in a fedora and donned in a black suit, he fits the exact type of man her mother and neighbors would love her to marry. However, she’s not the slightest interested in marriage, no matter how much it would lighten their situation. Sana steps in and slides the door shut behind her.

“你好, 可以点餐了吗？” ( _Hello, would you like to order now?)_ “ _还是想再等一等_ ？” ( _Or would you like some more time to decide?)_ Sana can’t tell if the suit is expensive. She’s seen rich men walk into their restaurant flaunting their wealth, but the more subtle ones she can never tell.

“Ah,” He looks up from the menu and Sana’s gaze hones in on the tiny mole to the left of the bridge of his nose. “You speak Chinese very well. I suppose you’ve had a lot of practice?” He smiles at her, and this time she takes a literal step backwards.

“You...noticed I’m Japanese?” Sana doesn’t look Chinese, she’s well aware, yet her fluent speech is usually enough to sway others from asking. This isn’t good. People around here don’t like the Japanese, not after the war. The Chinese never liked the Japanese much in the first place given their history. Sana panics, scolding herself for admitting it, because they can’t afford to move let alone have time to run, when he seems to notice she’s scared and hurries to answer.

“Oh don’t worry! I won’t say anything, I’m Japanese myself so it’s just reassuring to meet another here.” That explains why he came to the only Japanese restaurant in town. And his posture. An elegance Sana could never pull off.

Sana nods, stilted, then shakes her head. No time to dawdle, she’ll be fired. Plastering on a smile, she asks again if he wants to order.

“Of course, sorry. Umm if I get the hotpot, would you like to join me?...” Eyes darting away, he hurries to add with a slight blush, “I can’t eat much on my own.”

“I’m sorry, I have to work.”

“I see…” His brows furrow and it’s almost...cute? “I’ll take the hot pot anyway, thank you.” He hands the menu back to her and Sana bows, very much ready to leave the room.

Striding down the bamboo-floored hall lined with sliding doors, she tries not to cough at the amount of smoke floating out, boisterous laughter only worsening her mood, but can’t do much about her watering eyes. No, she should be grateful. A little smoke is nothing.

The time spent in the kitchen, hectic as it is, allows her to push some of her stranger thoughts aside. There’s a moment when her breath catches in her lungs and a sharp pain digs in her ribs, leaving her wheezing against the back wall, but it passes. Then before she knows it, Sana’s back with a pot of tea, sweeping her kimono ends beneath her as she kneels and knocks twice, sliding the door open with another bow.

He watches her set up the cups with a nervous energy, checks his watch, hands wring in his lap and she notes out of the corner of her eye that his fingers are a bit slender. Come to think of it, both his face and build are small for a man. The hat sits next to him on the table, and Sana has half a mind to smooth out the little bumps it left in his hair.

She tries to break the tension by asking if he needs an ash tray. He responds that he doesn’t smoke.

“Are you sure you won’t join me?” He says again sheepishly, brows upturned like he knows Sana will say no and feels bad for asking. “Just for some company while eating. I don’t mean for the night.”

He’s so polite, a little awkward, but very proper and straightforward.

The other waitresses would kill for a night with him, Sana concludes. Maybe bear a child, force a marriage – a common occurrence. And maybe she would consider him, given enough time if he courted her properly—not that she possesses such luxury. “I’m sorry...I really can’t.”

She’s hit with the sudden urge to spill everything. A strange constriction in her chest makes her gulp, and she tells herself it’s not due to the sad smile he sends her way.

A flash of disappointment sears through his eyes and it’s so genuine, not even a hint of hurt pride, that Sana feels something she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Guilt.

The emotion that has long been dead since her family was tricked into coming to Shanghai, since she was beat to the brink of death for stealing rice, since her mother fell ill from whatever disease she picked up from all those men. Sana’s just lucky she didn’t end up in the same line of work. She’s even luckier that the head waitress with pretty eyes and slightly prominent front teeth pitied her enough to hire her.

Sana’s breath hitches further when he smiles at her again, despite being used to deflecting these kinds of offers. But he seems different, somehow. Such a strange man. Voice too soft. Personality too timid. Eyes too kind.

Even his scent, jasmine, as Sana recalls from their stock of teas, is light. Girls in this age don’t have short hair though, it’s a taboo. He lifts a hand, seems to hesitate, eyes searching hers for permission, then finally places the smallest of touches upon her knuckles. Her grip remains tight on the clay pot with tea unpoured.

“So your name is Sana.” Both joy and sadness flicker across his features, and Sana doesn’t know what to make of it. “It’s a shame I can’t take you away from it all.” Something tells her this offer really isn’t like the others. “Try not to breathe in all that smoke, it won’t do you good. Though I suppose your fate has already been decided so my warning won’t be of much help.” He chuckles dryly.

It really is a shame, as she becomes aware their time is over now. And it’s with only a hint of awe that Sana comes upon the realization she wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

“Goodbye until next time.”

He retracts his hand with one last smile, and Sana almost misses the warmth it came with.

**Ludus**

Sana is wiping forks at the counter and regretting taking up this job when someone taps her on the shoulder.

“Can I help?” A lady who seems a few years older than her stands nearby, with medium-length chestnut hair curled in waves and lips upturned in a kind smile.

“That’s alright, you should just relax and enjoy yourself. You’re a customer after all.” Sana returns the smile curtly, then returns to her menial task while suppressing a yawn. Promises herself she’ll quit as soon as she earns enough money and sign up for classes at the university. These shifts really mess with her sleep schedule.

“Hmm.” The lady slips into a seat at the curve of the bar next to where Sana is working. “I must say you sure like to work in restaurants. Is it the free food?”

Sana frowns, “What do you mean?” _Maybe she’s joking with me or something. She could be drunk. Or both._ It _is_ a pretty common sight when you work in a restaurant bar that doesn’t open til night.

Still trying to figure out a reply, Sana finally gives her full attention, noting the woman’s fitting red dress, exposing her milky shoulders. Like a canary soaring through the ocean of the navy blue-themed bar. Sana can’t quite place her finger on it, but something about the lady (besides the dress and aura of elegance—she even _smells_ expensive) just screams that she doesn’t belong here.

“Haha~ What do I mean I wonder?” She giggles and takes a sip of her gin tonic. Noticing Sana staring, she tilts the glass towards her, “Want some?”

“Ah,” Sana starts, “No thank you I’m not really old enough to drink.”

“Eh? And you’re working in a bar?” Her brows raise in surprise.

“T-They offered to hire me as long as I don’t steal sips of alcohol. But I’m seventeen! Almost eighteen. Legal to be in here and almost to drink!”

“Hahaha~ Don’t worry I’m not going to go tattle on you to the police or something~” The lady laughs, finding Sana’s little panic cute. “You’re very pretty~”

Sana flushes instantly.

“Are you courted often? I noticed you answered me quickly when I came up to you. Prepared response huh.”

“N-No it’s just that when customers drink a little too much they do get a bit...rowdier...” Sana looks down. Her job of wiping the forks long since forgotten.

“No kidding, men these days have no manners whatsoever~” She downs the rest of her glass. Sana’s gaze remains stuck on her neck. “Some ‘gentlemen’ they are, am I correct?”

“I suppose.” Sana tries not to recall the countless times the customers would tell her in their gruff voices that a woman doesn’t need to take classes, just keep serving alcohol. It makes her want to puke. She never wants to see another sake cup in her life.

The lady laughs again. Airy and light.

_Why does she keep laughing at me..._ Sana’s face is feeling warmer by the second and she focuses on the dot on the woman’s nose just to avoid her gaze. It’s just because she’s also East Asian too, Sana tells herself. There aren’t many in Europe (besides the Taiwanese chef’s assistant back in the kitchen). That’s the only reason why she’s drawn to her.

“Then maybe I should work beside you next time.”

_Eh?_

The woman winks, “So I can chase those guys away and keep you all to myself.”

All at once Sana’s face reaches maximum temperature, heat rising to the tips of her ears and burning down her neck. It doesn’t help that her voice is a bit low, huskier than the average female and the suave accent that Sana has grown accustomed to over her lifetime in Britain is suddenly much more appealing when spoken in that tone.

“Haha you’re so cute~” The lady laughs amusedly at Sana’s stupor and hides her mouth behind her hand, and Sana is struck by how not European the gesture is. “Relax, let’s just chat and have some fun okay? The night is still young after all~”

The woman is pushy, a bit overwhelming, and Sana should just tell her off. Yet a glance into her eyes shows her something intriguing. A void, an emptiness, a lack of expectation that contradicts the playful words.

Then a couple of idiots start messing with the knobs on their television (the owner splurged and got one of the new color ones) and Sana is forced to scold them. If they want to change the channel they can do it at home (Sana’s about to change _his_ channel, she had to try really hard to get that irritating static to go away last time). She’s still grumbling when she gets back to her station and freezes when the woman’s waiting with that smile again.

She raises her glass with a smirk. “Refill?”

Suddenly in a great mood, Sana laughs, still unable to figure out why such a pretty woman is giving her the time of day, but throws caution to the wind. “Right away ma’am~”

Time passes quickly and Sana surprisingly doesn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy even when the clock strikes two. They pass time as customers trickle in and out. Sana teaches her to fold the serviettes, and the woman’s company keeps the tipsy guys from hitting on her. It’s a pretty good arrangement, Sana thinks. Maybe that’s why she keeps returning to this corner after every drink she mixes. (She does have a job to do after all, as much as she’d like to just skip out and join the woman at the bar.)

“One hour.”

“What?”

“It’s been almost one hour since we met. In ten minutes to be exact.” She seems so sure when Sana knows there isn’t a single clock in the vicinity. But she has been fidgety for the last twenty minutes or so, ever since she turned to look at the door. No one was there as far as Sana could see. “And now I need to ask you something important.” She faces Sana fully and it draws her attention more than ever.

“What is it?”

“Will you leave with me?”

“Eh? Where to?”

“I can’t say. But just, we should get out of here. Soon.” Her gaze flicks to the door again.

“Why?” Sana’s utterly confused. “My shift doesn’t end for a few more hours.” And if she leaves, her fellow part-timer in the back will have to close all on her own and Sana doesn’t feel it’s safe to leave such a tall beauty on her own come four in the morning.

“I know. But something—something’s just come up. Or it will. We really should go.”

“But I don’t even know you. What do you mean we should go?”

The lady sighs, tapping her fingers on her thigh and muttering, “Not again...Listen,” She suddenly sits up straighter, “I know I’m not supposed to say, but you should know my name. It’s M—”

Sana’s focus is suddenly drawn by some commotion breaking out in one of the back tables near the bathrooms. A bag of something being pushed around the table and Sana has a sinking suspicion of what.

_Oh great. This can’t be good._

Any hope she might’ve had of this ending without a fuss is instantly dashed when she sees one of the men in a gray suit pull a gun, and they all scramble to their feet yelling and shouting. Sana has no idea how she should handle this situation, and apparently no else does either because the rest of their customers all start screaming now, rushing for the door. Shots fire and glass shatters. Someone shoves Sana and she trips behind the counter cursing her fate. She must be the unluckiest person in the world, for the gangs to pick their bar for an exchange tonight. The woman’s gone too. Not even a trace.

_I never caught her name._

And her luck gets even worse when they start fighting, pushing at each other and dodging bullets and one of them crashes into the wall near where Sana’s standing—bottles slip off shelves, smashing into thousands of pieces in a growing puddle and a larger one-liter Grey Goose tumbles in slow motion when Sana spares a glance up.

Her last thought is that maybe it was a bad idea to move to Liverpool, even if it is the hometown of the ever-rising Beatles.

**Storge**

“Minatozaki. We’ve got a new recruit.”

Sana groans.

“Don’t be like that.” The chief chides her, the crinkles in the corners of her eyes betraying her amusement. “I’m assigning her to you because you’ve been here the longest and I hate to admit it, but also one of our best officers. Just show her the ropes alright? Then she’ll be out of your hair. Though maybe you won’t want her to be, I heard she’s promising.”

This perks her up. It’s rare for the chief to compliment anyone, though Sana is sometimes an exception. “Really? Okay Chief.” And she’s already up and out the office door. “Oh and you look great with short hair!”

The chief only laughs after her. What? The bob is a good look, and the chocolate locks make her eyes pop.

Sana first catches sight the girl clipping the gun back to her belt at security. (The guard is short and gets teased a lot for it, but Sana knows she’s more than capable of doing her job. Has known it since Sana watched her straight sprint six blocks chasing down a high school drug dealer (who also did rugby apparently) when he picked the cell’s lock and tried to make a break for it. It ended up with him groaning on the ground, a broken arm, and extra time in the cell, and further respect for Sana’s apparently very reliable co-worker.) Sana waves at her and she returns the gesture, little canine flashing in her grin.

The young girl now standing in front of her still fiddling with her belt (who has to be the new recruit Sana would notice such a pretty face) has a long wine red mane swept up in a ponytail—a bold color though she is the new generation, so Sana supposes it’s alright. The girl’s skin is also very fair, and several moles dot her face. Sana wants to count them.

Instead she introduces herself, catching the girl a little off guard as she jumps, smooths it over with a welcoming smile and takes them to the girl’s workspace. Her name is Myoui Mina, the new girl tells Sana along the way – a little too excitedly for a lazy day at the precinct but Sana appreciates the newbie’s enthusiasm. Mina hasn’t had much training on the field but did well in all her courses. Admits that she graduated top of her class both proudly and timidly (if that’s even possible).

“You’re nineteen?!” Sana exclaims when Mina’s age reaches her ears, then straightens up in an attempt to save her image. The bright-eyed gummy smile upon Mina’s face tells her it might already be lost. “We’ve got a prodigy over here...” Sana mutters under her breath. And here she had to work her ass off for years to be promoted to sergeant. Though she’d be lying if she said she isn’t proud. (Fortunately, Australia is more lenient about the whole women on the force thing.)

Sana shows ‘the prodigy’ around the rest of the precinct, from the break room to the bathrooms to the cells they have for temporary inmates. Computers have just been invented (at least the ones that fit on a table) and they installed one in the chief’s office though no one has any clue how to use it. It serves mostly as decoration.

(They’ll catch on someday!” Their chief swears.)

And despite Sana having rolled her eyes at the statement, she is pretty ecstatic to show Mina even if she can’t find the power button. Mina giggles and upon noticing Sana’s frown, she adds, “I just heard that you were really um cheerful. I’m happy to see that’s true.”

If it were anyone else saying it, Sana might clob them upside the head (seriously who calls a thirty-year old woman cheerful without any underlying connotation?) but it’s Mina, and in the short span of their less than impressive tour, Sana can’t find it in herself not to believe the girl. (It’s the gummy smile, Sana’s never glimpsed a more endearing thing.) She even skips out on demanding what other rumors Mina has heard about her.

Then they separate, Sana has to get back to her own desk (and Mina to hers) because there’s a mountain of cases she’s supposed to be looking into, yet the rest of the office is relatively peaceful. Again, lazy.

One of the other officers is sleeping with a newspaper on his face and feet propped up on the desk, and Sana takes sadistic joy in kicking his chair out from under him. He falls with a yelp, right on his ass, and glares at Sana when he realizes what happened. She doesn’t care if he’s a transfer from Hong Kong (don’t ask), they take things seriously here in Sydney. And no one sasses Sana (she’ll literally handcuff you to the front door for a week).

He bows quickly once his eyes focus because one, he realized just who he was glaring at, and two, that he came _this_ close to losing his position and Sana sends him off to pick up some coffee (two, one for Sana and one for Mina). At least he’s off his ass this way.

It isn’t until the end of the day that things finally take a more exciting turn. Sana shouldn’t be happy that there’s an armed robbery taking place at a local bank, but she is happy to get to be the one to take Mina out on her first job. Fate must be kind, granting Mina a case like this on her first day.

Very kind indeed, however, Sana is another story.

“Don’t cry...” Sana does her best to cup Mina’s cheek, her hand falls short and the red-head catches it. She clings onto Sana’s hand with a death grip. Too bad Sana can’t feel it.

The robbery had gotten out of hand, and regretfully it seems Mina’s first job is going to end with her losing one of her comrades. Hopefully her next will be better. The edges of Sana’s vision fade fast, much too fast. Who’s the lazy one now?

“D-Don’t...cry...Mina.”

Mina sobs harder. It breaks Sana’s heart. It’s only been a day since they met, one single day in the span of millions, yet Sana can’t help but feel protective of the girl hence how they ended up in this situation. At least it was worth it, Mina hadn’t gotten more than a few scrapes and bruises. It aches Sana to think that she won’t be there to protect her later.

The sun is setting behind the young recruit, making her hair glow brilliantly and light jasmine fragrance envelops Sana in a haze. Not the worst way to spend her last moments.

Mina’s still crying, Sana notices.

_A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be crying like this._ She attempts to say, but the fluid in her lungs has reached capacity now, there’s no breath left for her to do it. She shudders an inhale which ends as a splattering cough of blood upon Mina’s uniform, Sana’s body spasming uncontrollably. The ringing of a far too late siren echoes in her ears.

_Mina...I’m glad I got to hear your name this time._

**Philia**

“I’ll see you tomorrow oji-san!”

“Have a good night Sana-chan!” He calls after her chuckling, waving at her with the towel he’d been wiping the counter with.

The ramen-ya oji-san is so nice. Lets her eat her fill before sending her home, even pays her for the half hour she spends doing so (even though she insists she only wants wage for the hours she actually works), and allows her to stay as late as she can before the streets start overflowing with drunk salarymen. Nothing like her abusive father who only gives her bruises and cuts and fills her stomach with punches.

It’s fine. It doesn’t bother her. Sana might not have much going for her in terms of family or a future, but as long as she has people to fight with, she’ll be fine.

Cutting her way through the park, Sana pops out the other side that’s only a block or so away from her house. It’s a familiar path she’s not worried about meeting strangers because if it’s one on one, Sana’s sure she can take care of herself. Like now.

Sana’s greeted by the sight of some girl leaning against a light post, blonde with straight strands and dark roots, hands tucked in the pockets of a pink sukajan not unlike Sana’s own jacket, but Sana’s is better. The girl pushes off the pole when she sees her and Sana’s eyes dart across her figure, noting a slight slouch and an aloof look. Gray uniform. Then in a voice much too high and childish for a highschooler, the girl asks, “Are you Minatozaki?”

“Yeah? What about it?” The glare is important. The first showdown between every yankee, before the fists start flying. They used to mock her pudgy hamster cheeks that made her glare less than intimidating, so she made sure to silence those who said so.

Her reputation helps, as an undefeated fighter from Majisuka Jogakuen – Majijo for short and the toughest yankee school around. She even managed to join the school brass club, where only the elite yankees gather and you’d think that would mean people would leave her alone (most do scramble out of the way with heads bowed when Sana walks the halls), but yankees aren’t known for their brains.

Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for the girl to end up on the ground, groaning and rolling onto her side. It was fun, maybe. But the girl far too weak.

Sana sighs, bending over her fallen form. “Look. I’m tired of fighting small fry like you, so can ya just leave me alone and call your leader next time?”

The girl grunts and drags herself to her feet, scampering off while muttering something about the new teppen being way tougher than Sana and Sana has to stifle a laugh because her taunts aren’t very convincing with the girl running with her tail between her legs. Stumbling, really.

Sana has heard something about the new teppen at Yabakune. Transferred in a week ago, so she overheard some of Majijo’s students whisper. Took the top in two days by an all out brawl between the students and remained the last yankee standing.

Impressive, Sana supposes. She herself wouldn’t be caught dead in a battle royale—too many risks—prefers to slink around the background in one on one fights, building her name slowly and steadily.

But just hearing of the girl isn’t enough to prepare Sana for their abrupt meeting under the overpass one block away from her house. Two fights in one night. Fate must be smiling upon her.

The girl that greets her is nothing like what Sana imagines as the top of an entire school of yankees, let alone that vulgar Yabakune of all places. Hell she doesn’t even look like a yankee. More like an honor student, with that straight black strands and tiny mole above her lip. A girl as skinny as her couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so most would think. One peek into those black holes called eyes tells Sana different.

_Finally._ Sana feels the familiar adrenaline rush grow.

“Hello.”

God even her voice is so _soft_.

“I wanted to at least meet you during the day, but I suppose the fates aren’t so compromising, showing me to you on the last night.”

Sana raises a brow, “Is that a problem?” They can fight just fine in the light of the street lamps.

“Well the only ward of the hospital open this late is the emergency room.” She states and Sana has to suppress an incredulous scoff at the _nerve_ of this girl. This weak-looking, dainty, meek girl who is now grinning like proud child at delivering a proper comeback. Okay maybe not so meek. And she better not be weak because Sana won’t think twice about sending _her_ to the emergency room instead.

She tosses her schoolbag aside and starts rolling up her sleeves. The navy sailor uniform is customary—of both Japan and yankees, but the sleeves really are a bitch. The girl blinks in surprise when Sana tugs off her ribbon as well. “What? Aren’t you gonna get ready?”

“Um yeah but I thought maybe we could talk first?” She ducks her head almost shyly.

“Why?”

A shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve been looking for you for a week already.”

“Sorry, I tend to be elusive.”

“No wonder they call you Snake.” She jests, but her eyes look tired. Sana just chalks it up to physical exhaustion from fighting others.

“Hmm,” Sana responds with a grin. “And your name?”

“Mina.”

“No. Your last name.”

“Oh, Myoui.”

“Okay Myoui.” Sana steps one foot back and puts her fists up. “Ready?

A small smile blooms across Mina’s lips and she giggles almost excitedly. The sound is familiarly hollow. “Not how I pictured our next reunion, but why not? When in Rome, do as the Romans do eh?”

Sana doesn’t get it. She only goes to class to pick fights, and shrugs. At least she’s excited. Maybe she’s a yankee after all. “Sure, whatever you say.”

And she throws the first punch.

**Eros**

The woman that steps inside the VIP room is nothing short of stunning. Smooth skin, expressive eyes, silky strawberry-blonde locks and a small waist that’s hidden under her blazer and white dress shirt. She’s the kind of gal that belongs on the cover of a magazine, not a club in the more questionable neighborhoods of Manhattan.

Sana licks her lips when the lady turns around to close the door. Contrary to the blazer, her slacks don’t do much to hide that ass.

She’s young. She’s hot. Not visibly rich, but it peeks out in her Christian Louboutin heels and fur trim coat. Burberry.

Fuck, she meets all of Sana’s criteria.

Eyeing the curved booth, she takes a seat right in the middle in front of Sana and crosses her legs. Makes a gesture for Sana to start. Sana smiles and does so.

“What’s your name?” She asks as she grinds her ass against the pole. All clean and shiny and devoid of fingerprints. Only the best for their most popular dancer.

“Sharon.” The woman answers without a beat of hesitation, eyes drawn to the valley of Sana’s breasts when she bends.

Sharon can’t be her real name, so obviously American despite her Asian features. Then again who is Sana to question the names they give her?

_Is she..._ blushing _?_

Sana hums, “What do you do?”

“I’m a pianist. Part of the New York Philharmonic.”

“Yeah? What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like this?” Sana’s actually a big fan of classical music. Wont’ ever admit it though. Instead she wraps one leg around the cold pole, twirling her body around it lazily, singing the words to the song in her head and stretching her arms to the beat. A steady gaze occasionally illuminated by the passing strobe lights follows her every move and Sana almost chuckles. Feels a swell of pride. She might be halfway to fifty but she sure doesn’t feel like it. Doesn’t look like it either.

And she must say, she looks _damn_ fine in black. The diamond studded set with the matching garter is her favorite, her own dark wavy hair a nice touch.

“I could ask you the same. You seem too young to be stuck in a place like this.”

“Maybe I like it.”

_Sharon_ chuckles, observing her with a simmering hunger that makes Sana smirk. “I’m sure you do.”

At this point, Sana decides to give her little shock and swings upside down at a rise in the beat, bidding her time properly, spinning lazily, she waits until the chorus hits and drops suddenly. She doesn’t hit the floor, tightening her legs once again just before her head strikes the stage and smiles to herself at the little gasp she heard along the way.

Sharon thought she’d hit the floor—they always do, and that’s why Sana does it. Fear can easily turn into excitement, then Sana can hit the floor in a much more...delicious way.

A ringtone cuts in and the woman frowns, answers it curtly. It almost ruins the mood, emphasis on almost. Sana’s not a professional for nothing. Maybe twenty seconds, Sana flips right-side up and counts until the offending device is put away.

“One of the trumpets want your attention?”

“Close. The sax,” Sharon chuckles, “But no I’m not leaving.”

“No?”

“Do you want me to?” She raises a brow. It’s teasing—that’s supposed to be Sana’s job. Yet in a bout of uncharacteristic honesty, Sana answers.

“No.”

The woman smirks.

Sana does end up on the floor, eventually, after a lot of sultry glances and maybe Sana had gone a little too far with touching herself all the way up to the brink, (she was feeling a bit naughty today) but now Sharon’s eating her out in a fervor she wouldn’t expect from an honor student musician and they’re breaking the _one_ rule of the club (which is no touching the dancers). Sana has absolutely no regrets.

Hell she hadn’t even thought she’d use her _mouth_ —and it’s a very skilled mouth _jes_ us—maybe just a quick fingering. (But later, Sana does find out—many, many times—that Sharon’s just as skilled with her fingers; she _is_ a pianist after all. Sana wonders if it’s due to this fact that her fingers are so wonderfully long.)

The first orgasm hits quick and hard when Mina unexpectedly nips at her clit—Sana cums the hardest she has in a while and isn’t at all disappointed in her choice tonight. Doesn’t wait to return the favor. Already unbuttoning the other woman’s slacks with one hand, Sana shoves her back against the booth with the other and tongues her mouth languidly when she lands. Sharon groans and a spike of want rips through Sana. The pants along with the fabric underneath are tugged off together and thrown haphazardly toward the stage. Sharon’s _dripping_. Sana licks her lips and slides down, making eye contact with a half-lidded smirk.

_Let’s find out if you taste as good as I hope._

Needless to say, both are very satisfied with the ‘service’ after the night’s over and make (mental) plans for more. Every time after is in a VIP room as usual, though Sharon does pick a different room every time and Sana’s not complaining at the change of décor. (She likes feeling the differences in texture—from velvet to leather—of the booths she’s fucked on.) Eventually Sana’s boss has catches on and she’s (lightly) scolded for breaking the rules. She apologizes sweetly, but not really sincerely as she knows he doesn’t really care because Sharon pays. And she pays a _hefty amount._

They don’t go to each other’s apartments—well, apartment for Sana because she has no idea where the other woman lives and it’s probably the top condo of some skyscraper of Manhattan—at Sana’s request. She’s not looking for anything more. Meeting in hotels becomes the norm, each one more extravagant than the last, and Sana finds herself fucked against a window on a higher and higher floor (though she briefly entertains the thought of a lower floor, just for the excitement of possibly being seen by passersby with her breasts pressed flat against the cold glass, slick dripping down the flesh of her thighs from the teasing, not-at-all-fulfilling caresses, and Sharon’s strawberry blonde hair spilling over Sana’s shoulder as she sucks mark upon mark on the dancer’s neck.)

She plays for Sana sometimes, too, when the latter is invited to some rehearsal studio because Sharon’s busy (but not too busy), and every single one of those times ends with Sana seated on the bench, elbows striking dissonant chords against the keyboard with every pump of Sharon’s fingers that mesh with her groans and gasps in the emptiness of the room.

Sana’s pretty sure the top-notch acoustics of the practice studio aren’t meant to be used this way.

“Mina.”

“What?” Sana breathes in between kisses, trying to catch her breath after the last orgasm and one hand removing itself from where she crumpled the sleeve of Sha—Mina’s blouse. She might be shaking a little. It’s the third day in a row they’ve met up and Sana might not be able to walk properly. She likes it.

Likes how Mina drags her lips down Sana’s neck, nipping at her pulse point, collarbone, wherever she can reach. Her blouse and bra are long gone, but Mina’s left her in her tight shorts (already unbuttoned and denim soaked completely through) that are sin sitting atop the Steinway grand piano.

She surprisingly never edges Sana further than the initial foreplay and the way she touches Sana is so strangely desperate, caressing all over Sana’s sides and hips with her free hand or locking Sana’s head in place by the back of her neck when they swap saliva. So needy and dare she say it, expectant of something Sana can’t give. Mina marks up Sana’s neck every chance she gets even though Sana complains that it’s a bitch to cover up. Mina doesn’t listen. Sana tries not to get put off by the way Mina looks at her.

“Mina. My real name. Are you going to tell me yours?”

Sana involuntarily tugs on Mina’s smooth locks when she bites a little too hard on the area above her left nipple. Mina groans, sending a searing flash of arousal through Sana’s lower belly. Mina might be as rough as Sana wants in a top, but that airy voice of hers turns Sana on almost painfully when the tables turn. _It can’t hurt._ “Sana.”

“Sana.” Mina tests the sound much like how she tastes Sana’s lipstick. “I like it.”

Sana rolls her eyes. She’ll have to do better than that. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

But Mina’s fingers are already diving beneath her panties again, easily slipping through her folds (why she won’t just fucking take the shorts off Sana doesn’t understand but she won’t beg for it), and Sana has to bite her lip to keep the moans at bay. It doesn’t work.

They fuck at random intervals for a month. Mina still loses in the end.

**Philautia**

“Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_.”

Sana’s getting to old for this. She’s the same age as Ethan Hunt from those Mission Impossible movies (there’s already four so far and a fifth in the making and Sana only watches them for the irony) but actually having to vault from roof to roof in real life is a lot harder than the movies portray.

Curse Rio for having so many narrow streets and alleyways. Sana just needs to get to her car—she can already picture parked on the outskirts of the city, a nondescript black first gen Audi A5—and she’ll be on her way. Is that too much to ask?

Climbing up onto the next roof, footsteps as light as she can though the metal panels still thrum with dull thuds, Sana spares a thought about what she’ll be leaving behind. Not much really. But she might miss her current partner (who has no idea that Sana’s about to bail on her and is still obediently waiting in a café a few blocks back like she was told, probably ordered a slice of chocolate cake). Poor girl is still too young and nervous to be in this profession—they all start out that way.

_It’s for the greater good_ , they say. _Do it for your country,_ they say. Well the country can kiss Sana’s ass.

It’s so close. She’s so ready. She deserves _better_ than this.

Until a body slams into her ribs and Sana crashes unceremoniously onto some random family’s balcony below. Thank god they’re not home.

In her haste and daydreams she’d gotten careless. And careless gets you killed. Rule number 1 and Sana forgets it like a goddamn rookie.

Wasting no time, Sana makes a grab for her Beretta, kicking up shards of some flowerpot that used to hold aloe at the attacker to buy time. Pain dulled in the rush of adrenaline. She hisses when a boot makes contact with her wrist, the gun clattering to her feet and subsequently past the railing over the edge in the midst of their wrestling.

It’s funny really (Sana wants to laugh but hasn’t quite lost her sanity just yet so she refrains) how her plans of escaping went out the window before they even begun. Slammed onto her back, all the air rushes out of her lungs as a palm strikes her collarbone—well that’s broken—a body straddles her chest, knees and shins pinning Sana’s arms to the concrete.

Sana wheezes as black spots dance across her vision and blinking makes all but three go away.

The woman above her is an angel of death. There’s no doubt about it, with dead eyes like that, and something about her is dark and familiar that’s not just the way her black, shoulder-length tresses frame her face. Sana goes cross-eyed glaring at the mole on the woman’s nose.

Ah she knows who this woman is.

Sana’s caught glimpses of her during jobs, fleeting, impossible to forget. Sana’s counterpart from another agency—she remembers first hearing about her around a year ago. If she’s correct, the woman’s just a few years younger and surprisingly their records are nearly identical. Sana supposes that means they would meet at a crossroads somewhere along the way.

She should really get those moles removed though. It’s not good to have an identifiable mark when they’re supposed to be ghosts.

The three black dots turn to four, one much larger than the others and Sana’s hit with the realization that she’s now staring deep into the barrel of a gun.

Of course she is, that’s how it goes. The hand’s moved to her throat now, firm, but not choking. Odd.

“Aren’t you going to shoot?” The snarky attitude is a trademark of hers, or so the other agents tell Sana. Irritation flashes in the woman’s eyes.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”

_Mina. My real name. Are you going to tell me yours?_ What the fuck? “Fuck you if I’m dead then you don’t need my name.”

“I suppose not.”

Sana waits, fighting the urge to close her eyes. She’s not some green spy cadet anymore she can look death in the eye. A waft of something flowery crawls up her nose—must be some other potted plant on the balcony. Seconds pass that feel like hours, and the bullet doesn’t come.

“...I’m tired of seeing you die.” The gun barrel drops, offending arm falling limp to her side.

Sana scoffs, incredulous. The vibration it causes makes the woman look down at her fingers still wrapped around Sana’s neck. Everything about this is too soft.

“Yeah? Are you sure? Even if you don’t kill me the next guy that comes by will—along with you so I suggest you get on with it.”

Honestly? Sana’s damn tired too. She relaxes he body against the concrete. There’s no retirement in her line of work. Even if she dropped off the map, people would still chase her down and she’d be on the run, jumping at every little noise and peering over her shoulder for the rest of her measly life. She can’t escape, not from this.

“You’re right.”

This seems to reinforce her resolve. It’s better this way. Sana can rest.

Expression hard, Mina raises the gun again. “Better me than anyone else.”

And Sana closes her eyes. Hears the gunshot before she feels it.

**Agape**

“Please, Mina you have to make it.”

“No, Sana, don’t—please, _please_ don’t make me.” Tears run freely down her face, glistening in the darkness as Mina’s voice cracks.

“No—Mina.” Sana grabs at the younger girl’s cheeks with both hands. Presses their foreheads together. Their breaths come out frosty in the chilled night air. “ _Listen_ to me. Only one of us can go, and it has to be you.”

She shakes her head.

“ _Mina_.” Sana insists. She’s not understanding. It has to be Mina. Even if Sana made it out she wouldn’t have anyone waiting for her. Not when the only person she cares about is still stuck back in that hellhole—that’s why they left together, why Sana let Mina in. But Mina. Mina has her whole life ahead of her, she’s only seventeen (Sana’s only two years older but she doesn’t dwell on the fact). Mina’s the stronger one. Mina will make it.

“Sana!” Mina cries when Sana collapses to her knees. She grasps at Sana’s shirt, desperately trying to pull her along when it just drags Sana through the disgustingly murky water and irritates her leg, the white bone striking against the dark. Sana shakes her head.

This is as far as she goes.

Three years. Three years they’ve been planning this. Three years since Mina was brought in and Sana had immediately included the quiet girl in their plans despite the one other girl’s protests. It didn’t matter anyway, the other girl’s dead now. They’ll probably sell Sana off for good this time.

“Go!” Sana pushes Mina away by the hip, her own tears finally spilling as she watches Mina’s silhouette stumbling around the corner, one concluding glance back that gives Sana all the closure she needs.

LED flashlights shine upon Sana the instant she’s gone, splashing of heavy footsteps and gruff shouts cut through the air. Rough hands jerk her to her feet completely disregarding the fact that she can’t stand with that crippled leg of hers, and coarse fingers grip her hair, ignoring Sana’s cries of pain.

Nevertheless, amidst all the agony, she smiles.

_I’ll see you later, Mina._

**Mania**

“Sana-unnie, manager-oppa’s calling for you! It’s time to go home.”

With a groan, Sana disgruntledly pries herself off the floor shaking the sleep out of her eyes. Still groggy when she makes it to the van, she shoots Jeongyeon a grateful smile when the latter helps her in. Vague fragments of her dream flashes across the back of her eyes as she clambers to the back. Thick smoke. A red dress. The hum of a piano. She leans her head against the window trying to sleep and catch them again...yet fate is not kind when they hit a bump and the resounding thump of her head against the glass is loud enough for all occupants of the van to hear.

Dahyun is the first to turn and ask if she’s okay (Jeongyeon just snickers), which Sana just answers with a whine and a furious rubbing of her skull. Why is she imagining Dahyun in tactical gear all of a sudden?

“Here.” Mina taps her shoulder with a small smile and Sana immediately leans her head on it happily, arms wrapping securely around the younger girl’s waist. The perks of sitting in the back.

“Thanks Mitang~”

“Mmhmm,” Mina plays with her phone but turns the brightness down so it won’t disturb Sana. Suddenly, Sana still can’t find it in herself to sleep. Mina’s jasmine perfume mixed with her own natural scent invades her senses and it’s the strangest thing, how Sana feels like she’s smelled it before, back on the streets of Japan sometime maybe? Or somewhere else? That can’t be though. Sana’s never met Mina before Korea, despite being from the same country.

The ride ends too quickly and cuts off Sana’s train of thought before she’s grasped anything, sleep or otherwise. She’s forced to go inside and she’s first in line for the shower today, but that’s over before the haze lifts either.

Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge and setting it against her hot cheek, Sana leans against the counter and sighs. Takes a moment to herself, then heads for the living room.

“Where’s Mina?” Sana asks before she even realizes she’s looking for her.

Chaeyoung grunts something from her position facedown on the couch and Tzuyu sends her a look that seems far too all-knowing for a teenage girl, but then again Tzuyu’s always been mysteriously adept at life. Like how she’s so good at cooking. Wait, is she good at cooking? They don’t cook all that much at the dorm...Sana can swear she’s seen Tzuyu handle a kitchen knife with further precision than Momo mastering a new dance at _some_ point.

“In the bathroom, the other one.”

“Thanks.”

As she gets closer, she picks up Mina’s breathy voice murmuring something and once she’s right outside, Sana realizes it’s actually a bunch of curse words she wouldn’t expect Mina to know. She quirks a surprised brow.

Sana knocks twice but the muttering of Japanese expletives from the other side of the door doesn’t let up. Nor does the door open. She would laugh that the prim ballerina knows so many vulgar terms if she wasn’t so worried. “Mina? You okay?”

“Huh, oh yeah! Sana? Yeah I’m fine.” She hears a thump, then a hiss, and Sana just _knows_ Mina’s hit her elbow on the wall again because it’s always Sana that rubs her elbow for her afterwards since Mina’s prone to complaining about little pains instead of putting effort towards alleviating them. She’s oddly lazy sometimes. Giddy at others. Sana finds it kind of endearing.

“Mitang open the door.”

“Eh? Ok...”

Sana steps inside as soon as she hears the opening click of the lock, grabbing Mina’s elbow and rubbing it. Out of the corner of her eye, Mina’s little smile makes a bit of heat rise in the back of her neck. “What?”

“Nothing~ Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, but...it’s actually the other elbow.”

This time it’s Sana that has to bite back an expletive. “Tell me sooner~” She whines, but switches elbows anyways. “So what were you cussing about earlier?”

“Oh you heard that?” Mina looks away with a dusting of pink on both cheeks. “I was thinking about um, our tour in two days and then I got distracted and dropped my toothbrush with the toothpaste on it face down and had to clean it off. It was gross.” Her nose scrunches and Sana boops it. Can kind of tell that isn’t what’s really bothering Mina.

“You’re worried? You mean all those concerts didn’t help you get rid of your stage fright? Or the ballet?”

“I mean, I know we’ve practiced plenty, but I can’t help being nervous. I guess it’s just my personality.”

“Hmm I’m nervous too. I’ll probably end up laughing at terrible times like always because of nerves. Or forgetting the words because my Japanese is so rusty.”

“But the fans are used to that. And you make messing up look cute.”

“Are you saying I mess up a lot?!”

“No honey, calm down.” Mina pats her upper arm and Sana huffs. She must be in a good mood to play along like that.

“I mean I know almost spilled a drink on you that one time in the bar but I didn’t in the end! I couldn’t afford to clean that dress anyways, it was probably worth my entire life’s savings.” A flash of red fills Sana’s mind. Mina was seriously pretty that time.

“That reminds me, why an idol this time? Why couldn’t you have picked a less demanding occupation?” Mina peers at her curiously, picks up her freshly cleaned toothbrush now that her elbow is free and throbbing-less, murmurs a quick thank you that has Sana beaming.

“Are you complaining? But you love dancing.”

“Yeah, I’m not that comfortable with crowds. Don’t get me wrong I love Once and I do love being in Twice it’s just, ugh, how do I put it? I liked you better as a yankee.” She settles as an answer, “At least you were more approachable that way.”

Sana’s left brow raises as she leans against the door, crossing her arms. “I was more approachable as a _yankee_?” Of all the personas she could’ve picked. “I think your definition of ‘approachable’ is mixed with something else, like ‘abrasive’ maybe?”

Mina opts to ignore her. Hands Sana her own toothbrush and cup instead and the latter mutters a thanks. “It’s definitely the free food isn’t it.” They do get free catering a lot, even if the managers scold them for eating too much.

“What?”

“So the way to Sana’s heart this whole time was food?” Mina rubs her chin, deep in thought. She throws her hands up in mock outrage, careful not to drop her toothbrush a second time. “Then I should’ve taken that approach all along...”

“Okay first of all, if anyone’s getting a part time job in a restaurant to access free food, it’s Momo. And second—” Sana gestures between them with the toothbrush, “What are we even talking about right now?”

“Umm your past lives?”

Sana pauses, then reaches for the toothpaste, squeezes on a generous amount. “You mean _our_ past lives.” She says just for the confirmation more than anything. And Mina gives it to her no hesitation.

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Sana shifts her weight onto one foot. “I’d like to say I’m in shock...I probably should be, but I’m...not? Is that normal?”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re not very helpful.”

Mina giggles.

Sana should probably question this more, should be worried and shocked but Mina’s gummy smile is still the same and as cute as ever, her giggle just as light and airy, and Sana still can’t bring herself to care about anything else.

“Did you have something you wanted to talk about? When you came in here?” Mina fills her cup in the sink, starts brushing her teeth in earnest.

“Oh um, yeah. Yeah I think it was this actually.”

Mina hums, swirls some water in her mouth to get rid of all the foam. “Oh what a coincidence, me too~”

Sana shoves her right when she goes to spit some more water in the sink, and Mina almost misses because their bathroom is _tiny_ and most definitely not meant for more than one person at a time. Unless one is in the shower. But if one of them is showering then wouldn’t the other join? Wouldn’t be the first time she shared a shower with Mina, just in this lifetime perhaps.

Then Mina nudges her in the rib right where Sana’s ticklish and she really does miss the sink, splutters water and foam and toothpaste all over the mirror and she complains for about two seconds before they both burst out laughing because god it’s so funny. Why is splattered toothpaste so funny?

“You’re crazy, chasing after me for that long.” Sana wheezes after she’s somewhat caught her breath. Mina wipes the excess foam off her cheek for her and goes to wash her hands, having finished her nighttime routine much faster than Sana. “Why did you flirt with me every time? Why not just be friends then I would’ve hung out with you, if you gave me a bit of time.”

Mina’s expression harrows and she clicks her tongue bitterly, “No no that would’ve been too easy.”

_Too easy?_

“It’s like rules to a game. A game is pointless if you can win easily.”

_Well she does have a point..._ “Wait, am I some kind of prize or something?”

“Um...”

“Mina! You treated my life like a game?!”

“No wait! Let me explain!” Her eyes widen and she gestures frantically.

“You want to _explain_? You just told me that you’ve been playing with my life for how many times now? I’m sure there are some that I don’t even remember—was it just another game?”

Mina splutters, “I-I—”

“No it’s fine. Whatever, I’m leaving.” It’s late, Sana’s tired. And the anger is kind of a façade just to rile up Mina but her tiredness isn’t. She can’t be seriously mad at Mina after everything they’ve been through.

“No wait!” Arms outstretched, Mina all but throws her body over the door. It’s adorable, almost, maybe a lot.

_Aish she’s too cute._

“I-It’s a cycle.” Mina fumbles her words in her haste. “The title of god, it’s passed on every once in a while, whenever the previous god finds something they want to live for—as a human.”

Sana considers this for a moment. “That still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t just become a human and stay with me.”

“I-I needed you to say yes. At first all you had to do was just agree to come with me, but after a few lifetimes I fell harder.” Mina sighs and ends up slumping against the wood, like all her energy’s been drained. “The fates know that, even if I don’t admit it. The clearing conditions changed and everything was a trial—a game where I make you fall for me without breaking the rules. No mind reading. No lying. No forcing. I can't change anything about you. And I can only interact with you within a certain time limit. If you say no, then it's no. The current round is over and onto the next.”

Sana is quiet for the next minute, and Mina is half-expectantly waiting for some kind of answer, as well as dreading it. “...So you’ve cleared the game?”

Mina blinks. “I...haven’t thought about it. I guess? Since I can tell you about it now...” Her brows scrunch up. “I can tell you about it now...I’m human now.” Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and Sana has to laugh. She has to because Mina is so _adorable_. Like out of this world. Oh but wait Mina is from out of this world, or are gods considered occupants as well?

“Mina.” Sana reaches and cups Mina’s face with both hands, making her cheeks puff up a little and she has to suppress another giggle because Mina’s (cutely) glaring at her now. But then Mina sighs again, closes her eyes and snuggles her face into Sana’s hands and dear god this girl is going to be the death of her. “Mina, don’t you have something you want to ask me?”

“Hmm?”

“Minari~”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

“Yes Mina.”

“Shhh.”

Sana giggles.

“Sana,” Mina starts.

“Hmm~?”

Mina rolls her eyes and presses the back of her hand to her lips, probably to keep from bursting out laughing. “Sana, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?”

Mina’s brows scrunch, “Yes?”

“Huh. I thought we were far enough along for marriage but I guess I can settle for girlfriend~”

Mina’s jaw drops to the floor, then two seconds later she promptly turns around and bangs her head into the door.

(“What was that?” Jihyo asks halfway down the basement stairs, having heard a dull thud of something hitting wood. She takes the few steps back up and glances around but no one’s bounding out of their room screaming so it’s probably fine.

“Jihyo! Hurry bring the popcorn I’m starting the drama!” Nayeon shouts from downstairs. Impatient as always, that one.)

Sana glomps on Mina’s back in joy, arms locked around her and giggling uncontrollably, face buried Mina’s hair and nosing at the nape of Mina’s neck. It kind of tickles. “Minari~”

“Saaaanaa~” Mina whines, but chuckles too, then sways them left and right. Wants to hug Sana back but her upper arms are pinned to her sides so she does the best she can to reach up and manages to hold Sana’s wrists. Close enough.

“Hehe~”

“Why are you so giggly?”

“Because you’re cute, silly~”

Mina rolls her eyes.

“Are you almost done? What are you guys doing in there?” Momo’s cutesy voice comes from the other side of the door and it jolts them apart. They share a quick glance.

“We should probably get out of the bathroom.”  
  


“Yeah you’re right. How long have we been in here?”

“I really have to pee, guys! Please hurry!”

“Don’t we have like three bathrooms?” Sana mutters as she opens the door to Momo’s pupils blown in panic, the black-haired girl rushing past them and pushing Mina out gently but firmly.

“Thank god I thought I was gonna pee my pants.” Is all she has to say before the door shuts abruptly and Sana turns to Mina.

“Hey she thanked you.”

Mina groans again, bumps shoulders with Sana and tilts her head in the direction of their room. Don’t need to tell Sana twice. Sana all but tackles Mina to her bed because it’s closer to the door than Sana’s and Sana is much too eager to wrap her arms around her again. “Do you have to shower?”

“I showered earlier, same time as you.” So that’s why Mina smells so nice. But she always smells nice—like the prettiest jasmine flower. Even when they’ve been confined in a tiny room for days with minimal food and water and zero hope for a future.

“So you were the one fighting me for the hot water!”

Mina laughs—it’s airy and light and the softest and Sana giggles with her. It’s probably her favorite, making Mina laugh like this without a care in the world.

“How’s it feel to be human again?”

“Hmm it’s nice I think. I don’t feel that much different besides the world seems to have quieted down. Now I can just focus on you, so that’s nice.”

“Aww you’re so cheesy~”

“And you still have the weirdest pillow talks.”

“I don’t do pillow talk.”

Mina rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I know. The one time you tried you asked how much my pants cost.”

“That was not pillow talk that was just me being curious how freakin rich you actually were!”

She smirks, “I do remember that being a turn on for you.” Sana immediately bites her lip and averts her gaze. Mina nudges her with the tip of her nose. “I was glad you asked though, I didn’t think you were very interested in me at all, save for my fingers I suppose.” The blush on Sana’s cheeks spreads all the way down her neck, and Mina presses the ghost of a kiss on the freckle there. “And my mouth.”

“Oh my god shut up!”

Mina snorts, snuggles her forehead against Sana’s collarbone. “That’s an interesting phrase you’ve chosen there, claiming me as ‘your god’.”

“Ugh,” For once, Sana has nothing to say and groans against Mina’s shoulder, hoping the blush isn’t visible anywhere else but her face. Knows Mina sees right through her though. Wait, does this mean they had premarital sex? Pregirlfriend sex? “Mina please stop teasing me.”

“Nuh uh, I’ve got a lot of making up to do, for all those times you didn’t recognize me.” Her tone is playful, teasing, but Sana doesn’t laugh. She tightens her arms around Mina’s tiny, tiny waist. She was always so slim, Sana had thought so from that very first time when she’d mistaken her for a man. A girl like Mina tends to look fragile—like she needs protecting, but Sana remembers. Mina is strong.

And this Mina, this Mina she has right here in the present is the strongest, the toughest, and the softest of them all. This is the Mina that’s been here all along.

Tears spring to her eyes and Sana’s suddenly struck by how lonely Mina must’ve been all these years. How fortunate Sana is to have someone like Mina. _She had to watch me for all those lifetimes, living and dying without ever knowing who she is, without ever remembering her._

But Sana’s gonna make up for it—she’ll protect her no matter what. Sana will make up for all the times Mina loved her by loving her with everything she has now. Sleep begins to creep up in the edges of her mind again, and this time, she thinks she can give into it.

“...I’m so glad you didn’t give up.”

Mina pats Sana on the side and whispers against her skin, like an answer to the question Sana’s asking without words, “Me too.”

\---

The story of how they got together might not be the most romantic when they tell others. One of them has a gay panic in the bathroom (actually Sana was having one too, just in the kitchen but she doesn’t inform them of that) while the other barges in. Chaos and banter ensue, a confession happens, then they get together just in time to be kicked out of said bathroom by a friend who really has to pee. It earns them lots of teasing when they come out to the other members, and even more over time because they just won’t let it _go_ and Momo feels she’s slightly responsible for their love story somehow, as the friend that had to pee. (They decide not to tell her otherwise, poor girl is too sweet and supportive of them.)

But Mina and Sana and Sana especially (though Mina will fight her on it—she _was_ a rambunctious yankee at one point and a secret agent) hold a far dearer story in their hearts, built up of eight different first meetings, eight different timelines, and eight different loves.

And Mina—god Mina, finally, _finally_ wins.

(And Sana does too. Getting a girlfriend like Mina is surely a win, isn’t it? Sana believes so.)

_Even if you vanish completely, become scattered pieces_

_I won’t waver anymore; I’ll start searching for you again from square one_

_Or better yet, maybe I’ll begin the entire universe from zero once more_

前前前世 ー Radwimps

Extra

The next morning in the bed across the room, a certain brunette with a bob-cut stretches with a groan. Her eyes blink open and she smiles, warmth welling up within, like nothing could go wrong today or any other day. Nothing else really feels off; Nayeon’s snoring away on her bed nearby like always, and the two lumps—or one large lump—atop Mina’s bed is a little different from usual, but Jihyo can’t bring herself to care.

She feels unstoppable. Like she can do anything.

Jihyo wakes up feeling like a god.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Did I just break my rule of never writing smut?? HOLY SH—should I chug a gallon of holy water is that how this goes
> 
> Btw can you guess which members’ cameos showed up in each timeline? Feel free to leave a comment or anything! Or find me on Twitter [@keiyuuart](https://twitter.com/keiyuuart) where I post my fanart ;P


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